Page 69 of Bride of Choice

“Are you going to walk around with me or drop me off like a child at daycare and rush off to do whatever on earth it is you do all day that I don’t care to ask about?” I cooed sweetly.

“Second,” he said simply, disappearing down the wide corridor off of the living room like I wasn’t being the world’s biggest smart aleck.

I’d still yet to venture much around Celuk’s closed doors of the thick wooden variety. I had this very real fear if I was ever to snoop I’d be caught shortly after and then shunned from Casa De Awesomeness hence forth, forthwith, however the fuck you say it. Long story short, my ass had no intention of evacuating this castle of my Yetified dreams until I was made to leave.

To be honest, after the first month, I’d stopped asking for updates on the Krampus sitch.

Kooky seemed about as keen as I felt on dancing around that particular convo. Yay us.

We had a good thing going. I jived with the furred grump like nobody’s business. We just meshed. Like feck was I about to do something stupid and screw that up.

We were happily lost in our own little world, no negativity allowed, that included grumpy wild wraiths thinking to mark me as an intended target.

The less I knew, hidden away and safe, perhaps it was for the better.

I knew I was totally acting all head in the sand about it but I also trusted Kooky and the others. Hey, I’ve survived this long.

“Same meet up at dusk? Behind Dorothy’s?” I asked.

“Same. Jes,” he said simply.

“Right after this chapter,” I muttered, licking the tip of my finger, readying to turn the page in the book in my lap. My freshly picked material, along with all of my sewing crap and ongoing, half-finished projects sat in a hefty bag at the end of the couch, calling to me to stop lazing about and get my shit done, and I would soon, one day, I so would, but today was not that day.

My book was plucked from my hands and, despite my protests, he held it up, turning it in his fat mitt of a paw to get a gander at the cover.

“Monster ‘mance.” A grunt of approval left him but instead of giving me my book back, the shit head walked over to the shelves already housing several of my books, to place it on the tippity top, where his ass knew damn diddly darn good and well my ass couldn’t reach.

“Fine. I’ll need twenty.” Making sure my hair smacked him as I whipped around and gave a ridiculous hair flip, I put a fuckton of sass into these hips as I saucily sauntered off. Whipping around the corner I’d just disappeared around, I grinned as I informed him, “I’ve gotta go put my war paint on.”

Kooky made a face, wrinkling his nose. “Smells,” he muttered.

Batting my lashes at him, I made a noisy air kiss that had the male snorting. “Don’t pretend you don’t lurve it, fuzzsticles.”

With a long suffering sigh, I listened as he muttered about snow covering funny parts of his body and my brilliant observations of the fact.

“You can thank me for the fun nickety names later, Lassie!” I sing songed.

“No see me say Jo… big… boobs,” he huffed out under his breath. Whatever else he said, he switched to Lo denaii so I’d have no clue when I burst out laughing and tossed back, “Like melons! And don’t you forget it, honey!”

“Take long time, leave Jo ‘hind!” he called out twenty minutes on the dot, I’d bet.

“Leave me and I’ll make you wish you’d never met me!” I shot back. Softening my voice, I cooed, “Be a dear and shove all the shit I had set aside in those small wooden dealies you had lying around that I totally confiscated for my own personal use into the basket I wove a few weeks back, would you, fuzz… y-wuzzy?”

Spurts of low rumbled grumblings reached my ears, the sounds of him rummaging around to gather my shit making me grin like an idiot.

“We go, big boobs!” he called out not ten minutes later as a soft thunk sounded, but then grunted and made a weird noise. “No. No sound right,” he said not two seconds later, as if to himself.

I was too busy muffling my witch cackles, desperate not to ruin my makeup, to offer a proper comeback.

Kooky gave a little grunt and hopped up from where he’d been sitting on the sofa waiting for me as I entered the room.

“Got a little drool on the corner of your mouth, fuzzsticles,” I teased as I strode past. In my soft boots, many times patched up winter coat, a nice, painfully glittery bright set of claws on, and war paint bangin’, I felt like a million bucks.

The look Kooky was giving me gave nothing away. As always, I chose to take his emphatic, “Colorsful,” as I passed him on my sassy sashay towards the door, as a compliment.

Leaving my shawl, pelt, and clothes from Mystery Mate behind from our very first trek back into town had felt like the right choice to make. I’d be keeping that up until a mate for me was confirmed and my ass was good and caught, whoever the hello their sorry ass ended up being. Until then? I was a single bitch on the loose. Any other way to look at it was like accepting a big fat maybe in a ‘ship, rather sad when I delved into it for too long, and just damn depressing.

There was no ring on this finger or male hanging out properly claiming a gal. I’m free as a bird. Somebody doesn’t like it? They can take it up with me.

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